Time Is An Illusion, Time Travel Doubly So
by DinerGuy
Summary: It should have been a normal, run-of-the-mill case - or as normal as a case could be with Shawn Spencer involved. But things take a strange turn when Sam Beckett finds himself in the place of one Carlton Lassiter.
1. Chapter 1

_This fic was written a while back with my good friend NorwegianBlue from Psychfic. I somehow overlooked it when I was posting all my other fics when I joined FF, so you folks get it now! :)_

_Disclaimer: Nothing Psych nor Quantum Leap belong to the authors._

**Prologue**

"Theorizing that one could travel within his own lifetime, Dr. Sam Beckett stepped into the Quantum Leap accelerator and vanished. He awoke to find himself trapped in the past, facing mirror images that were not his own, and driven by an unknown force to change history for the better. His only guide on this journey is Al; an observer from his own time, who appears in the form of a hologram that only Sam can see and hear. And so, Dr. Beckett finds himself leaping from life to life, striving to put right what once went wrong, and hoping each time that his next leap will be the leap home."

**WMWMWMWMWMWMWMW**

The blue light around him faded, and Sam Beckett arrived. Where he had arrived was another question entirely.

Glancing at his surroundings, he quickly figured out that he was in a car. Before he could think about anything else, a mechanical female voice spoke up.

"At the next traffic light, turn left."

Sam jumped and looked around the car. Who was talking? He was the only occupant as far as he could tell.

"Turn left now," the voice instructed.

When it spoke again, it sounded mad. "Make a legal u-turn now."

A tiny, thin, computer-like device was mounted on the windshield of the car. The screen lit up with a map, and the voice issued from speakers on either side of the screen.

Sam squinted at it. What in the world was this thing?

It must be some sort of navigational device, so he obeyed and turned the car around. He followed the instructions that it continued to give him, while he surveyed the car's interior.

By the time the machine informed him he'd reached his destination, Sam had come to the conclusion he was a cop. The radio and the gun he felt on his belt were his two main informants.

He suddenly realized he hadn't seen himself yet. Every time he leaped into another person's life, he took on their entire identity – complete with the body. Sam straightened slightly, peering into the car's rearview mirror.

A stern face looked back at him. Dark hair, a strong Irish hairline, and piercing blue eyes. Sam thought him to be somewhere in his late 30s. Pulling out his badge, Sam discovered his name was Carlton Lassiter, head detective for the Santa Barbara Police Department.


	2. Chapter 2

"Dude, where's Lassie?"

"Stop asking, Shawn. He'll be here. Most likely he just got held up in traffic or something."

"But I'm hungry," Shawn whined. "Can't I go ahead and order without him?"

"No, Shawn. He's probably already mad that he had to do this in the first place. Let's not give him something else to complain about."

Shawn contemplated this for a moment before reluctantly nodding his head. "Fine. But he'd better not be too much later."

"Like you have the right to complain about someone being late."

"Guys, please; let's not start this again," Juliet spoke up.

Shawn started to respond but stopped when a tall figure entered the restaurant. "There he is."

"What's he doing?" Gus asked, glancing back at Lassiter. "He looked right past us and went over to that empty table."

Shawn's brow furrowed. "That is really strange, even for Lassie. I mean, I could see him wanting to overlook you, but all three of us?"

"No, that'd be you, Shawn."

Ignoring his friend's comment, Shawn stood up and waved his hand in the air. "Lassie! Over here!"

"Shawn, sit down!" Gus demanded, cheeks flaming, while his friend attempted to attract the detective's attention.

Lassiter looked over at the noise, frowning as Shawn began jumping up and down.

"See, Shawn; now you made him mad."

"That's not anger, Gus," Shawn replied, a little confused. "It's like he didn't even recognize us."

"Why wouldn't he recognize us?"

"I don't know. Maybe – Lassie! What's up?"

"Excuse me, were you calling me?"

"Uh, yeah. Dude, what is _up_ with you? You're acting like you don't even know who we are."

"Oh, sorry." Sam pulled out the unoccupied chair and took a seat at the table. His mind was whirling, trying to gauge the personality of this Lassiter guy from the reactions of these three.

Apparently not reacting to the jumping around wasn't like him. They all sat as if waiting for him to make a comment about it.

"You know, you really didn't need to yell and jump around like that. A simple 'Carlton' would have worked just fine."

Okay, that might not have been the right thing to say.

"Since when have you let me call you 'Carlton'?" Shawn blinked.

"Carlton, are you all right?" Juliet asked. "You didn't hit your head or anything, did you?"

"No I didn't hit my head!"

"There, that's more like it," Shawn encouraged in an overly-exaggerated tone.

"All right. Now that Lassiter's here, can we please get to discussing the case?" Gus cut in.

"No. First we have to order," Shawn informed him. "It's been long enough since we got here for us to have eaten two complete meals!" He waved a hand at the waitress as she walked past.

Sam hurriedly examined the menu, picking out a dish and giving the girl his order. After the waitress had retreated to the kitchen, the other three leaned in as if they were going to be sharing secrets. Sam followed suit.

"So, did you find anything odd during your shift?" Juliet asked Shawn.

Shawn shook his head. "Nope. Nothing. And I had to clean out the whole break room." He wrinkled his nose. "That fridge was disgusting."

Juliet sighed. "So it's apparently more of a secluded operation. I mean, if all the employees were involved, we'd have found more evidence of it in the break room." She looked at Sam, apparently expecting him to input something into the discussion. When he didn't, she continued. "So tomorrow, Shawn, you need to check the equipment. See if there's anything in the alley's balls or pins."

"Nothing suspicious came to light when I went through the lockers," Gus put in. He smiled. "I was able to go through them all without getting caught."

"Wow, Gus, how impressive." Shawn rolled his eyes. "Next time, maybe you can go through the bathroom cabinets."

"It was pretty tricky, Shawn. I had to employ all my skills to pull that off," Gus retorted, wiggling his fingers.

"All what skills?" Shawn scoffed. "It's impressive, really, what you can learn through a correspondence course."

"For the record, Shawn, it wasn't a correspondence course. It's a subscription –"

Juliet cleared her throat. "Okay. Shawn, Gus. Can you please get back to the case?" She turned and raised her eyebrow at Sam.

"Yeah, boys. Let's get back to business, huh?" Sam asked.

"Lassie, are you sure you're okay?"

"Um, well … Can you excuse me for a moment?" Sam jumped up and headed for the sign that pointed patrons towards the restrooms.

He pushed through the door of the men's room, hoping to find Al waiting to reveal the reason behind this leap.

No such luck.

Sam sighed and went over to the sink. Splashing some water on his face, he glared at the stranger in the mirror. If only he could get a handle on this guy's personality, he might have a better chance at figuring the rest of it out.

"You know, Sam, it's not the mirror's fault. You really shouldn't take your troubles out on it."

"Al!"

"You know, I don't know that you've ever been this happy to see me. I suppose you want me to give you a magic formula or something?"

"At least tell me why I leaped! And who I am, while you're at it. I think I'm about to give at least one of them a heart attack."

"Yeah, okay." Al pulled a hand-held electronic device from his pocket and started messing with it. "Ziggy says you're in the year 2009 –"

"Wait, there's got to be something wrong with that. Don't I normally leap within my own past? What am I doing here in the 'future'?"

"Well, technically it's the present – at least for me. You've been at this for years, you know."

"No, I don't know! Al, I'm the one who's leaping around. I'm the one with the mixed-up brain. Shouldn't you be telling me this stuff?"

"Why? There hasn't been any reason for you to know so far."

Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "So is it some sort of … malfunction or something? I mean, what am I doing in the year 2009?"

"That's what we're trying to figure out." Al gave the device a smack. "Unfortunately, we don't know."

"Wait, what do you mean you don't know. Isn't Ziggy supposed to know everything?"

Al gave him a look similar to the ones going on between the others in the dining room. "Sam. Ziggy's got limits, too."

"Okay, okay. Does Ziggy happen to know why I'm here?"

"Uh, well, there's a 78% chance you're here to save one of those three out there from something, but there's also a 23% chance it's so you can learn better behavior …" Al trailed off and squinted at the device. "Wait a second. We're having technical difficulties. I'll be right back."

"Wait, Al! Can you at least give me a hint about my personality? I'm freaking everybody out."

"Anything I give you may or may not be accurate. Just do your thing, and I'll hurry back."

Sam smacked the counter with his fist as Al disappeared. That was one of the most unproductive meetings he'd had with Al since the whole leaping thing had begun.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam took a deep breath and reentered the dining area. As he made his way back to the table, he decided he'd at least try to participate in the conversation. The others were already confused; he could at least roll with it and try to slip into the correct personality.

"Jules is going to check out the pro-shop tomorrow," Shawn informed him as he took his seat. "There might be evidence in there."

"Would you check out the other league bowlers?" Juliet asked Sam. "Judging from those background checks you did, it seems likely that some of them are involved in trafficking the drugs."

"Fine," Sam replied. He glanced around the table and was glad to see no confusion at his response. Apparently Lassiter was a bit of a gruff individual. "Is someone going to check out the shoes? Maybe there's traces of stuff there that'll give us a lead."

"Um … Lassie, we did that last night, remember? Gus used his key, and we went through all the shoes."

"Oh …"

"I'm just surprised you didn't remember. You were complaining about it the whole night," Gus informed him.

"Carlton," Juliet began.

"Yes?"

"We, um, we were talking while you were gone and decided that it would be a good idea for you to work this case from the station."

"What?"

"What she's trying to say," Shawn jumped in, "is that you're a little too out of it. It would be dangerous for you to keep trying to work it undercover. You can be the point man instead!"

"The point man?"

"Yeah! You can be our source and work leads and all that jazz!"

"Look, Shawn, I appreciate it –"

"There you go again." Shawn tossed down his napkin.

"What?"

"Calling me Shawn! Not that I don't like it. In fact, I think you're starting to warm up to me. How about a hug?" he asked, jumping up.

"Uh, I don't think so."

Shawn huffed and put his arms down, flopping back into his chair. "Fine. I guess we're back to me being 'Spencer,' huh?"

"Right, Spencer. Don't forget it."

"I won't. I won't."

"Are you all right with this, Lassiter? I mean, you do understand it'd be better for the case, right?" Gus asked, looking worried that they'd over-stepped their bounds with the head detective.

"I suppose."

"Good." All three looked relieved.

**WMWMWMWMWMWMWMW**

Once they'd finished their meal, Gus and Shawn scampered off towards a small blue car, chattering about the movie they were going to see. Shawn extended an invitation to the detectives as well. Something told Sam that Lassiter wouldn't be the type to accept, so he told them no and hurried to his own vehicle.

As he stuck the key into the ignition, Al popped up in the passenger seat.

"Nice ride."

"There you are! Do you mind telling me why you deserted me earlier?"

The other man shrugged. "I didn't want to mislead you."

"Well, did you get Ziggy's problems all worked out? Please tell me you did, because I'd like to actually find out what I'm doing here."

"Calm down, Sam. It's not like you were on your own for that long."

"It was long enough for me to get kicked off of the case."

Al's eyebrow went up. "You what?"

"Yeah. Lassiter was too 'out of it' to participate in the undercover work."

"This sure mixes things up," Al mused.

"It sure does. So?" Sam prompted. "Did Ziggy tell you why I'm here?"

"Oh, that. Yes."

"Good. Why?"

Al pressed a few buttons on the blinking object in his hand. "At approximately 8:49 PM on May 16, 2009 – that's tomorrow – Detective Juliet O'Hara is going to slip and hit her head at the beach and drown. Apparently, she was in pursuit of a criminal when it happened. There were no witnesses to the accident itself, but witnesses at the bowling alley say they saw her run out chasing someone – which would be the crook."

Sam sighed.

"What? All you have to do is –"

"Right, Al, I know. All I have to do is keep Detective O'Hara from being at the beach tomorrow night, and I can leap out of here. There's just one small problem."

"What?"

"I'm not exactly on the case anymore."

"Right, right, that. Well, we have time to figure it out. Why don't we go back to your place."

"My place?"

"Well, Detective Lassiter's place."

"Right. Could you direct me there?"

"Just use your GPS."

"GPS … What is that?"

"This." Al gestured to the device on the windshield. "That's right; you don't know what it is, do you?"

Sam shook his head. "No."

"Oh. Well then," Al shrugged, "it's a global positioning device. Tells you how to get places. Nearly everyone has one."

"You know, these would come in handy in all my leaps. Too bad I can't take it with me when I go."

Al chuckled. "Let's just get home. You've got a busy day tomorrow."

"Yeah, that should be loads of fun."


	4. Chapter 4

After spending a night in Lassiter's house, during which Sam became slightly more aware of the detective's personality – and his apparent obsession with sidearms – Sam arrived at the station.

Everyone he passed gave him some sort of nodded greeting. Sam nodded back as he made his way through the building, trying to find his desk without appearing unsure of its location. If only Al had come along, the other man could've helped him find his workspace, but Sam hadn't seen him since the night before.

A tall, dark-haired cop approached Sam, cup of coffee in hand.

"Good morning, Detective Lassiter."

"Morning," Sam replied.

The officer stood as if waiting for something more. Sam turned back to him.

"I'm sorry. Did you need something … McNabb?" he asked, reading the man's nametag.

"Uh, yes, sir. I got your coffee, sir."

"Oh, wonderful. Thanks. Can you just put it on my desk?"

"Yes, sir."

Sam made as if heading to the men's room but waited to see on which desk McNabb placed the cup. After waiting a moment, he came back out of the restroom and strolled over to the desk.

Picking up the beverage, he took a drink. Trying not to grimace, he returned it to the desktop. McNabb saw his expression.

"I only put in the 3 sugars and 4 creams you always want," he spoke up hurriedly.

Sam cleared his throat. "No, you're good. I'm just, uh, I'm not feeling so well today. The coffee isn't sitting well with me."

"Do you need something else?" McNabb asked worriedly.

"I'm fine," Sam waved him off. "You can go do whatever it is you need to do."

"Great. Thank you, sir. I hope you feel better."

McNabb headed off to another part of the station, and Sam picked up the first file on his desk. He really had no idea how to do this guy's job, but he might as well look like he was doing something productive.

A blonde woman crossed his sightline just then. Sam glanced up at her. She had the stride of someone in charge, and when she entered the only office in the place, Sam figured she must be the chief. Perhaps he could talk to her and get back on the undercover team with Detective O'Hara.

He walked over, tapping his knuckles on the partially-open glass door. The chief looked up from her desk.

"Yes, Detective?"

Sam walked into the room. "Chief, I wanted to talk to you about the bowling alley case."

"The drug case?"

"Yes. When we met yesterday, O'Hara and the others thought I was acting strangely and that I might compromise the undercover operation if I stayed on. I wanted to check with you to see if I could still work with them. I was a little distracted at the time, due to that other case I've been working on, but that was just temporary."

"Detective, I talked with O'Hara earlier today before coming in. She explained last night to me."

"And?"

"And I agree with her decision. There's a certain danger to any undercover operation, and it increases considerably when even one of the investigators behaves erratically."

"Chief –"

"I know how much you would rather be in the field than behind a desk, but I feel O'Hara's call was the appropriate measure to take." The chief – Karen, from the nameplate on her desk – picked up a file, signaling she was done with the conversation.

Sam wasn't. He had a junior detective to save.

"Chief, I understand how you feel, but I'm sure I'd be fine." Sam chuckled. "I was just a little tired last night. Nothing major. I would be well able to work the case."

"And you will," Karen answered, "from your desk."

Sam opened his mouth to object, but the look Karen gave him made him shut it.

"Detective, did I not make myself clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," Sam sighed.

"Good. Now, let's get this case solved."

Nodding, Sam went back to his desk. He not only had to figure out a way to stop O'Hara from being on the beach that night, but he now had to do police paperwork in the meantime.

Just as he opened a file, his phone rang. Sam snatched up the receiver, mentally reminding himself of his current name.

"Detective Lassiter."

Five minutes later, he was in Lassiter's car, trying to figure out how to use the GPS.

"Need some help?"

"Al! Where have you been?"

"Busy. Tina had a party last night."

"Great. I hope you had fun. Now, can you please help me with this?" Sam motioned to the device. "I need to get to a crime scene, and I have no idea where it is."

"Sure, Sam, sure."

With Al's help, Sam soon reached the apartment building where the murder had occurred.

Ducking under the yellow police tape, Sam ascended the stairs and followed one of the officers to the correct apartment.

Al came into the room behind him. The hologram's eyebrows went up at the sight in front of them. Sam had to fight the urge to do the same, figuring a detective would be used to these sort of scenes.

A man lay sprawled out in the middle of the living area. There was no doubt in Sam's mind that the man was dead, but there was nothing around him to indicate what had caused his demise. No pills, no weapons of any sort, just the phone clutched in his hand.

Before Sam could even take a look around the room, Shawn danced in. His eyes were half-closed, and he held his hands to his temples.

"Spencer, what are you doing here?" Sam demanded.

"Aw, nuts. The old you is back."

"Yes, it is. Now can you please tell me why you're here instead of working the other case?"

"Well, as a janitor, I only work nights. Besides," Shawn waved his hands, "the spirits have summoned me to this case."

"What? You think you're just going to waltz in here and solve it?"

"Perhaps … with a little help …" Shawn slowly turned in a circle, his eyes taking in every detail of the room.

"This guy is supposed to be really good," Al spoke up. "You know, I've read about his work. I just didn't think I'd get to see him in action."

"Ah ha!" Shawn suddenly announced. He dropped his hands and opened his eyes all the way. "I know something!"

"What?" Sam asked, uncrossing his arms.

"Cause of death … I'm getting something about …" Shawn brought a hand up to his temple but flung it towards the kitchen. "Ah! Something's got me, Lassie!" he shouted, stumbling through the room.

Sam rolled his eyes. "What do you mean, something's got you?"

"Exactly that!" Shawn pulled up, panting. He looked around the kitchen.

"Is there something here you'd like to share with the group, Spencer, or do you just like wasting my time?"

"Both, actually, but only the first is valid here." Shawn snatched a fork from the counter and plunged it into the contents of a plate. "The spirits say this is your culprit."

"A fish?"

"Not just any fish, my friend. A poisonous fish."

Sam studied the food more carefully then took a look at the cookbook beside the stove.

"_Japanese Specialty Dishes_?" He flipped through the pages. "This has recipes for puffer fish."

"Exactly!" Shawn smiled smugly. "Mr. Thomas was going to impress his girlfriend with his cooking prowess but forgot his gloves."

Sam turned to McNabb. "I want a toxicology report on this guy asap."

"Yes, sir." The officer hurried to do as instructed.

"I don't know how you figured that out, Spencer, but it looks like you're right."

Shawn's eyes widened. "Ooh. Did Carlton Lassiter just admit Shawn Spencer was right?" He held out a fist. "Come on. You know you want to."

Sam just looked at him.

"Fine," Shawn sighed as he turned to leave. "Man, and I thought you were really coming around."


	5. Chapter 5

Sam left the station that evening with a new appreciation for Carlton Lassiter. He'd been called to two different murder scenes that day, and both investigations had included Shawn. The chief had actually called the psychic in on one case, and the other he claimed to have been drawn to.

With a few convulsions, Shawn gave the detective several key clues for the first and pointed out the perpetrator for the second. Sam had tried out his interrogation skills on the man and got a confession, to his surprise.

After that, Juliet's desk became Shawn's new hangout for the afternoon. He wasn't interrupting anyone else, and they seemed almost glad to have him around. Sam, on the other hand, grew quite tired of the incessant bugging about anything and everything.

How anyone could stand the man for any length of time, Sam didn't know. He kept a careful eye on the clock, nearly bolting out of the station at six.

Shawn seemed surprised to see him go. "Leaving already, Lassie?"

"Yes, I am," Sam stopped walking. "You have a problem with that?"

"No," Shawn replied, shrugging a shoulder. "I'm just a bit surprised. The spirits didn't hint anything about you leaving early tonight."

"Early?"

"Yes, early. Don't you usually work until, like, at least seven or eight?"

"Oh … Well, I decided to take off early tonight then. Do I have to explain myself to you about everything?" He headed for the door again.

"No, I guess not." Shawn jumped up, sending the desk chair spinning. "Hey, dude, you wanna go get some dinner? I still have a few hours before I have to be at the alley."

Sam shook his head. "Sorry, no. I happen to have things I need to do."

Shawn kept pace with Sam, a grin spreading across his face. "Aw, Lassie. You have a date tonight!"

"A what?"

"A date. You know. You and a girl? Out? Preferably not at the shooting range?"

Shaking his head again, Sam snorted. "No, Spencer, I don't have a date. I have stuff at home to do."

"Reviewing your wall of suspects? I could help."

By this time they had reached Lassiter's car.

"You know what? No." Sam jumped in and shut the door firmly.

Shawn stepped back as the other man sped out of the parking lot. He turned towards his motorcycle, shaking his head in disbelief. "Something is up with Lassie," he mumbled to himself. "Maybe Gus will have an idea."

**WMWMWMWMWMWMWMW**

After making sure there were no motorcycles following him, Sam returned to Lassiter's house. His stomach was growling, and he knew he needed all his energy for the night ahead. Who knew how far he might have to run?

A little more than an hour later, he headed for the bowling alley. He had just pulled onto the main road when Al popped up in the passenger seat.

"You're leaving early."

"Yeah, I know. I just figured I could get there early. Maybe stop the guy from going in the alley or something."

Al nodded then pulled the device from his pocket and started pressing buttons. "And it's a good thing you are."

"Why?"

Al lowered the device and looked Sam in the eye. "Did you happen to … I don't know? Do anything strange this afternoon?"

Feeling he wasn't going to like the direction this was going, Sam shrugged. "Maybe. I'm not sure. I'm not even absolutely sure what normal is for this Lassiter guy."

"Well, apparently you must have. According to Ziggy, the chase has moved up an hour."

"What? That's right about now! But isn't this a little early for it to happen? I mean, it'll still be light out, and there'll be people around, right?"

"Well, not exactly. There would be people around, but now Detective O'Hara's apparently behind the building on her cell phone around 7:30 when she sees the guy. That puts the chase about an hour earlier than it was supposed to be originally."

"But what changed it? I mean, it's not like anything that drastic has happened. Don't things like this normally stay the same time?"

"Yes! That's why I think you did something."

"So now it's my fault?"

"No, Sam, I didn't mean that." Al sighed. "I'm not necessarily blaming you. I'm just saying, you're the only one who can really affect the past. Something you did earlier must tie into this change."

The two men paused to think but were interrupted by the ringing of a phone.

Sam grabbed Lassiter's cell and hit the talk button – something else he hadn't known how to do before this leap. "Hello?"

"Carlton, we need to talk."

Sam put a hand over the phone and turned to Al. "It's her." He removed his hand and replied. "What's going on, O'Hara?"

"Look, Shawn just called Gus about you."

"What did he say?"

"He said something about getting these vibes that something was wrong. According to him, he'd been at the station or at crime scenes with you most of the day, and you were acting strange."

Sam forced a chuckle. "You know Spencer."

"Yes, I do, and I know he has a tendency to … over-exaggerate. But, Carlton, he did bring up some valid points. As your partner, I need to know what is going on."

"Well, I –" Sam began. He wasn't quite sure how to respond.

Before he could say much more, Juliet interrupted him. "Hang on a second."

"What is it?" Sam asked, tensing up. He had a bad feeling about what it was.

"There's this guy … I'm almost positive he's Boris Hillman."

"Boris … You mean the main suspect in the drug ring?"

"Yes!" Juliet was whispering now. "How fast can you get here?"

"I'm on my way," Sam replied. "I'll probably be there in …" he looked at the GPS screen, "five minutes."

A beeping noise suddenly filled his ears, and the line went dead.

"What? What happened?" Sam asked.

"Let me see." Al leaned over to see the device. "You know, this hologram thing really stinks."

"No more than leaping in time," Sam retorted. "Now what happened to the phone?"

"Um, looks like your battery died, Sam." Al leveled a stern look at him. "Didn't you recharge the phone?"

"Recharge –? I don't even know what that is! I barely know how to turn it on and off."

"Well, see, you have to … replenish the battery supply every now and then. Otherwise …" Al motioned to the phone. "Otherwise, it'll die on you."

Sam sighed. "So what now?"

"Go! Use your siren if you have to!" Al urged. "Just get there as fast as you can!"


	6. Chapter 6

With a screech of his tires, Sam pulled up in front of the bowling alley. No sooner had he put the car into park then Shawn and Gus rushed out to meet him.

"Lassie! Jules is in trouble!"

"I know!" Sam replied. "O'Hara was just on the phone with me when she spotted Boris Hillman. Now, I believe she went in pursuit-"

"What happened next, Lassie? You didn't hang up on her, did you?" Shawn cocked his head in mock dismay.

"No, I didn't hang up on – Not on purpose anyway."

"Aha!" Shawn shook a finger. "You didn't charge your phone, did you?"

"Shawn, can we concentrate on this right now?" Gus asked. "Juliet might need our help."

"Yeah. Sure. Just so long as we don't have to rely on our phones."

Sam sighed. "As I was saying, I believe she went in pursuit of Hillman. I'll go locate their position and apprehend Hillman. You two wait here in case they circle back around."

"No way, Lassie," Shawn protested, moving over to stand next to him. "I'm coming, too."

"Spencer, I'm not letting a civilian get involved in a chase. There's no way I'll be able to guarantee your safety." Sam was getting frustrated. If he didn't get moving soon, this leap would be for nothing. He _had_ to get to O'Hara in time.

"We're not saying you have to guarantee our safety," Shawn told him. "We want to help."

Sam sighed. The two friends just stood there watching him, as if waiting for him to agree with them. Looking at his watch, Sam finally nodded in exasperation.

"All right. But no blaming me if your antics get you killed," he instructed sternly.

Both nodded, following Sam as he raced to the boardwalk.

"Which way?" Gus asked, as the three looked both ways up and down the beach.

Sam looked again. To one side he could see the twinkling lights of several bars and clubs. The other side led to what appeared to the rocky section of coastline.

"I'm going this way," Sam announced, starting off down the sand. He hadn't gone far before Al appeared.

"Sam, this isn't gonna work. They've already had a head start of several minutes. I doubt you're going to run faster than a criminal fleeing a life sentence for drug dealing." When Sam didn't respond right away, Al pulled out his device. He pressed a few buttons then waved it in Sam's face. "Look the average human can run about 7 to 10 miles per hour. It's been about five minutes. They're at least half a mile out, maybe a little more."

Sam pulled up. "You're right. I need something faster." He spun around and tore back towards the alley.

"Lassie!" Shawn called as he ran past. "You're going the wrong way!"

"I'm taking the car, Spencer." Sam ran faster, slipping and sliding in the sand. Finally he reached the boardwalk. The footing there was better, and he made much better time reaching his car.

Sam finally got to the car, Al pulling up alongside him.

"I didn't lock this car!" Sam fumbled with the keys desperately.

"Yeah, Sam, but a lot of these modern cars have an alarm system that automatically locks them. This Lassiter fellow seems to be paranoid enough to use one of those alarms."

"He's a cop, for crying out loud. Who's going to steal a cop's car?" Sam finally got the door unlocked and yelled to Shawn and Gus, who were getting close. "I think they've gone too far to be able to catch up on foot. You two stay here. Call for back up, and let them know that we're going to be down by those cliffs over there."

As he closed the door, he heard Gus ask "How does he know that?"

Fortunately, as he glanced up at them in the rear view mirror, Shawn was putting his phone to his ear. Of course, they were also chasing after Sam's car, but at least they were doing one of the things he'd asked.

Sam kept a close look out for any signs of O'Hara or Hillman, wishing he could go faster while doing so. Finally he noticed a spot where quite a bit of sand had been kicked up on to the side of the road. As it was pretty close to a path that led up the cliffs, he pulled over. Just barely remembering not to slam the door shut, he took off running up the path. Right before it leveled off, he heard O'Hara's dazed yell. Then, what seemed like far too long afterward, a splash.

The splash wouldn't have even registered if Sam didn't know what it meant. By all rights, a splash signifying a possible drowning ought to sound more ominous. Before he reached the top of the cliff, he had already began to shed his suit jacket.

Hillman finally came into sight at the end of the path, near an observation deck lined by a split rail fence. Hillman was standing by the edge of the cliff, just inside the fence. Clenched in his fist was a woman's pink hooded sweatshirt. He looked dazedly at Sam as he ran to the edge.

"What did you do?" Sam turned and yelled in the man's face.

"I didn't –" Hillman's face began to look horrified.

"You better pray to God that she'll be okay!" Sam took a quick glance over the side of the cliff to try and avoid the rocks. The ocean wasn't all that rough, but the rocks didn't help matters. To top it off it was starting to get dark. But he thought he saw blonde down in the water briefly.

Sam took a deep breath, and, trying to remember if he'd ever seen anyone cliff dive before, jumped.


	7. Chapter 7

Sam straightened his legs as he plummeted towards the dark water below. He managed to land cleanly, avoiding the rocks that jutted upward. It was more shallow than he'd expected but, thankfully, deep enough that he didn't injure himself.

Blinking the water from his eyes, he frantically looked around for his partner. He spotted her several feet away.

Her limp form was floating on the surface of the water, moving slightly with each wave. Sam swam over to her, praying he wasn't too late. He knew it didn't take much water to drown someone, though he wasn't sure how that knowledge had stayed with him. O'Hara hadn't been in the water for long, but she had hit her head as well, and Sam worried that the combination would be fatal.

No. He shook his head. He wouldn't allow himself to think that.

Reaching Juliet, he rolled her over, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. He held her face out of the water as he paddled to the shore. After getting her up on the beach, he crawled up next to her.

He felt for a pulse. It was there, but it was very faint. Her skin was cold, sprinkled with droplets of water.

"O'Hara? O'Hara! Can you hear me?" Sam called to her, but she lay there unresponsive.

Taking a deep breath, Sam started CPR. He called her name between breaths, as he concentrated on pumping her chest.

It became a routine, a rhythm, as he moved from her mouth to her chest and back again, counting the seconds.

After what seemed like an eternity, a cough built up in her chest. Sam moved back as she rolled over, gagging and expelling the ocean from her stomach. Her eyes fluttered open, narrowing in confusion as she saw her partner leaning over her.

"Carlton?" she gasped. "What – what happened?"

"Do you remember anything?" he asked, wanting to be sure she didn't have any memory loss. "You hit your head pretty hard."

It took her a moment, her eyes moving back and forth, before she remembered. "Hillman was at the alley."

Sam nodded.

"I chased him, and we ended up at the cliff …" she trailed off for a moment. "He had disappeared when I arrived. Then he jumped out from behind the rock and grabbed me."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "And that's when he pushed you off."

"No, he didn't mean to. He was just holding me there, telling me we needed to back out and leave the alley alone."

"And then?" Sam prompted.

"And I saw an opening and tried to get loose. My feet slipped, and he grabbed for me." She shook her head. "I should've known better than to do that that close to the edge."

"You had no idea, O'Hara. For all you knew, he'd have pushed you off anyway."

She nodded. "That's what I was thinking when I pulled away." Her eyes widened slightly in realization. "Where _is_ Hillman?"

Sam straightened. "He was still up there when I jumped in."

"Wait, you jumped off the cliff?"

"You were down here. What was I going to do?"

Juliet shook her head. "It just seems like you'd have at least cuffed him."

Sighing, Sam ran a hand through his hair. "Spencer and Guster were behind me. If he was still there when they arrived, they probably took care of him."

Juliet started to get up. "We should go make sure."

"Oh no," Sam replied, gently pushing her back. "You're going to lie right here until the paramedics come."

"Carlton, I'm fine."

"Right." Sam raised his eyebrows. "O'Hara, you just fell off a cliff and hit your head. You shouldn't be running around after criminals."

She didn't look too happy with his decision, but she didn't argue either.

Sam was about to ask if she'd be all right if he left her for a few minutes when a face appeared at the top of the cliff.

"Lassie, are you all right?" Shawn called down.

"Yes, Spencer, I'm fine," Sam yelled back. "I need you to call an ambulance."

"Is Jules okay?"

"Yes, but she might not be if you don't get some help! Now call the ambulance!"

Within minutes, the area was illuminated by flashing lights as the paramedics arrived. Sam had stayed with Juliet to make sure she stayed awake and alert, but he gladly turned her over to the professionals' care. He hurried along the path up the cliff, hoping he'd be able to find a clue to where Hillman went.

Al walked beside him. "Hey there, Sam."

"Al! You kind of abandoned me just now."

"Yeah, I know." The other man shrugged. "I'm sorry, okay? Something came up."

"Right. Just be glad I didn't need you for anything. What if something had happened?"

"Well, it didn't, did it?"

Sam grinned and shook his head. When he reached the top, he was a little surprised to see Buzz escorting the drug dealer into a patrol car. Sam looked over at where Shawn and Gus were leaning against his car, looking quite proud of themselves.

"Spencer! Do you mind telling me what went on here?"

"Well, as far as I can tell, you leaped over to save Jules, leaving the two of us to single-handedly capture Hillman." Shawn paused and turned to Gus, a confused look on his face. "Dude, is it 'single-handedly' if we both did it?"

"I think you'd just say we did it together," Gus replied.

"Fine." He turned back to Sam. "Leaving us to take Hillman down all by ourselves – which we did very well, I'd say."

"They think you did it on purpose?" Al raised his eyebrows.

"What? You think I wanted to leave you to take care of a dangerous criminal?" Sam asked incredulously.

"Well, whether you wanted to or not, we got him, didn't we?" Shawn shrugged.

"That is true, Sam."

Sam sighed. "I suppose you did."

Grinning, Shawn elbowed Gus. "See? See, I told you he'd be impressed."

"Spencer – I'm not impressed by anything other than the fact that Hillman didn't kill you both and toss you off the cliff."

Shawn's eyebrows went up. "Seriously? Lassie, the guy was totally freaked out by the whole thing. I don't think he could've done anything to us, even if he'd wanted to."

"Don't you have a job to be doing?"

"The janitor gig? Nah. We finished up the case, didn't we?"

"Shawn," Gus spoke up. "It's still your responsibility. I think you should at least finish your shift tonight and turn in a resignation letter tomorrow."

"You just want me to stay away from the hospital, don't you?"

"As a matter of fact, yes I do. I know you; you'll just be bugging the nurses and doctors, and Juliet won't get any rest."

"Excuse me!" Sam interrupted their bickering. "Would you two mind moving away from my car? I have things to do."

"Why haven't I leaped yet?" Sam asked as he turned the key in the ignition. "Doesn't it normally happen once I do what I was supposed to do?"

"Well, yeah, Sam. Maybe you were supposed to do something else, not just save Detective O'Hara."

Sam was about to reply when someone knocked on his window. He looked out and came face-to-face with Shawn.

Sam looked around for the handle to open the window. "Al, how does this work?"

"That button." Al pointed out. "Right there. Push it down."

Sam was a little confused. "Everything's computerized now."

"That's how it works, Sam."

Finally getting the window down, Sam turned to Shawn. "Was there something you needed, Spencer?"

Shawn looked a little confused. "Who were you talking to just now, Lassie?"

"Uh – My radio."

He didn't look convinced but didn't say anything else about it. "Do you think you could give us a ride back? Gus' car is still at the alley."

"It's not that far. Can't you walk?" Sam demanded. He was running short on patience, racking his brain to figure out why he wasn't gone by now.

"Uh, Sam, you might want to give them that ride," Al told him, studying his device. "Apparently they're going to get hit by a drunk driver if they walk back."

"Oh. Okay then." Sam sighed and unlocked the doors. "Hop in, Spencer."

The two men climbed into the backseat and shut the door. As Sam pulled out onto the road, he grabbed his radio. No reason to let the drunk driver go unpunished.

As he began to speak into it, a familiar blue light surrounded him. Sam closed his eyes and let it swallow him, hoping he'd end up back with Al where he belonged.


End file.
